


parting

by vaultie_glass



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, good night kisses, nate is big soft and concerned about the detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultie_glass/pseuds/vaultie_glass
Summary: Nate walks the detective to her door.
Relationships: Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell, Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	parting

**Author's Note:**

> Emma belongs to the delightful @detectivegreene on tumblr.

Nate meant to say good night and take his leave.

It’s late, and Emma hasn’t slept — he hears it in the labored shuffle of her steps as she falters to a stop outside her door. Something heavy aches in his heart at the shadows of fatigue beneath her eyes, makes him want to reach out and fold her in his arms, as if he could physically shield her from the weight of her exhaustion.

She seems to read the urge in his expression, brown eyes leaping fondly down his body before snapping back to meet his own, a smile growing at the corner of her lips. “I’ll be all right,” she promises, and in the quiet darkness of the hallway, her voice reminds him of the softness to the sun before it rises, when just a glimmer of it is enough to light the sky. “Just need a good night’s sleep. Or maybe three,” she adds, breathing a tired laugh.

Nate lifts a hand to frame the delicate curve of her cheek, feeling his heart skip when she leans into the touch. “Then sleep well, Detective.” His thumb skirts gently down the line of her jaw. “If you need anything at all…” He trails off, lets the offer linger in the quiet. 

Emma steps closer, the hearth heat of her eyes half-lidded as she gazes up at him. “Just… one thing, maybe.” Her hand moves as if heavy when she lays it tenderly against his chest, and through the dark threads of his sweater, he can _feel_ her — warm and soft, delightfully intent. 

He arches a brow, captured in the smile that brightens her face. It draws him in like gravity, his eyes fixing with rapt attention on the plush curve of her mouth. “Name it,” he says simply, “and I will make it yours.”

Her smile sweetens then, like she believes him; he’s having trouble thinking what he wouldn’t do to prove it. 

So when she flushes the most fetching shade of pink and requests in an enticing whisper that he wish her good night properly, Nate steps eagerly to meet her, slipping an arm around the curve of her waist to draw her in against him. He tips her face up with the barest touch, hearing her breath catch and the stutter in her heartbeat — like his own, fluttering wildly in his chest — as he leans in and softly kisses her.

Emma eases in his arms, as if a tremendous weight is lifted from her shoulders when her lips part beneath his own, sinking into the kiss. Her fingers clutch the collar of his coat, trailing up to wind into his hair, and then he sweeps his tongue along her bottom lip, and she sighs a whisper of a moan that makes his skin prickle with heat beneath his clothes.

They stumble together until Nate has Emma pressed against the door, one hand drifting up from her hip to the softness of bare skin beneath her shirt. She gasps under his mouth, her heartbeat like a drum between his ears as he loses himself in the warmth of her body tight against his own, the clean, sweet smell of her, the honey-colored hair tangled gently between his fingers. 

She’s breathless when their lips finally part, and Nate devotes his mouth instead to the frame of her jaw, following her arching throat to the brutal marks torn pale into her skin. His lips slow over the scars, pressing reverent kisses there as if he might overwrite the pain that made them. Emma shivers at the touch of his mouth, his name a thready whisper on her tongue, and with the sound of it, he’s drawn once more to the tempting shape of her lips.

He meant to say good night and take his leave.

And now Emma has a hand gripped in his hair, backed between her front door and his body as he tastes her, chasing every delighted little sigh she sings that urges him to want more. He could kiss her like this for a lifetime — longer, even — but she needs rest, and he knows this, and yet it is still with an immensity of reluctance that he forces himself apart from her.

Emma bites her lip, now swollen pink from his attention. Her cheeks are flushed as she regards him with a fond, satisfied look, straightening the lapels of his coat with a light tug of her fingers. Stretching up on tiptoes, she kisses him one last time, softly, slow enough to savor, and this one feels like a promise of much more.

She’s smiling when he takes a dazed step back. “Good night, Nate.” 

“Sweet dreams, darling.” He stands in front of her door with a grin, his hands stuffed in his pockets and the warmth of her kiss lingering on his lips as he watches her blush deeper and disappear into her apartment. 


End file.
